Today I present you with the Sailing
portion of our Lost Shaker of Salt tour.
It should be noted that, while the
ocean and I have a...gastronomically distressing...relationship, where
as I love nearly every edible creature which comes from it's briny
depths, the ocean loves to make me throw up.
There is NO throwing up in this
installment.
Although the ocean gave it it's best
shot.
You should also know a little bit about
sailboats. The underside of a sailboat – which looks sort of like a
fin – is the keel. The keel helps stabilize the boat and keeps the
boat from sliding sideways in rough waves and heavy winds. There are
several types of keels. Our little boat has an adjustable keel, which
means we can pull it up or push it down as we need. Some boats have
fixed keels, which means if you get into water that is too shallow
you run the risk of ripping the keel right off the boat. This is not
good. Our boat at Key Lime had a swing keel. This allows you to
adjust how far down the keel is, either by using the crank or hitting
the bottom causing the keel to make a terrible scratchy, sandy sound.
Not that this happened to us.
It's just something I heard.
Now we may continue with the good part
of this story. But keep all this keel talk in the back of your head.
It is very important.
Our boat - the Talofa, which in Samoan sort of means 'I give my love freely to you'... |
Key Lime Sailing Club is situated on
Buttonwood Sound which is on the west side of the Key Largo – the
east side being the Atlantic Ocean. Several other islands, or Keys
(Cay in Spanish), form a semi-circle surrounding the sound. This
offers guests several options for nice, relaxing day sails.
Naturally, there was little relaxing
when WE took to the ocean.
Tuesday dawned brightly with sunny
skies dotted with billowing clouds. And a small craft warning as
winds were 15-25mph. But the status board said, Have a Good Sail,
just be careful.
Itching to take to the sea, we loaded
up our bags with sunscreen and water and pretzels, setting our sites
on Porjoe Key, a easily visible landmass about 3 nautical miles from
shore.
(I do not know how a nautical mile
corresponds to a highway mile except to say that there are no rest
areas on a nautical mile. If you must 'rest' we were outfitted with a
large bucket, plastic bags and a roll of paper towels. There was an
unspoken understanding among the four of us that WHOEVER uses the
bucket last must empty the bucket. No one used the bucket.)
Here is an interesting fact – the
water surrounding the Keys is surprisingly shallow. Buttonwood Sound
averages anywhere from 5 to 7 feet deep at its shallowest, with a
couple of areas only 3-4 feet deep.
This explains why there were so many
shipwrecks in days of yore.
It was requested numerous times that WE
not become one of those wrecks.
Of course, the thought of a treasure
hunter one hundred years from now salvaging our bounty of fizzy water
cans and lip balm is still pretty hysterical.
But I digress.
In orientation we were instructed to
crank the keel down as far as it would go, then give it one half
crank back up to lock the chain. Once within the vicinity of Porjoe
Key we were instructed to retract the keel 8 full revolutions, thus
adjusting for the shallower water.
Also, about halfway toward Porjoe Key,
there is a metal post with a sign notifying people that you are
entering the Everglades National Park. Except the sign itself is
gone. Leaving only a metal post protruding a couple feet about the
water, assuming that ocean water remains smooth and waveless at all
times. We were emphatically instructed to WATCH FOR THE METAL POST.
The best way to avoid it was to sail towards either end of Porjoe,
not directly at it.
Porjoe Key. No deadly metal post here... |
With all these instructions in mind, we
happily set off, motoring through the mooring field, keel fully
cranked. Once beyond the moored boats, we turned into the wind, shut
down the motor and let loose the sails. Except that three of the
hanks which hold the main sail into the channel on the mast had
popped loose.
But our BVI instructor Toddy, had done
a good job and Rob never gets into a boat without a pliers. Which
miraculously worked to open the mast gate enough to re-thread the
hanks.
We began to sing our sea shanties and
hoist the sail again, only to have it reach halfway up the mast and
stop. There was a reef point already set (this alters the size of the
sail, making it more controllable in small craft advisory winds) but
even taking this into account didn't allow for our new hitch.
It is here that I enjoyed my brief
moment of saving the day.
As we all fumbled with various lines
and rechecked for snags I pointed out that the 'boom vang' was still
secured. I dramatically popped it loose and the main sail rose to its
appropriate height on the mast.
(The Boom Vang is probably the most
ridiculously named piece of equipment on a sailboat. However, it
keeps the boom from bouncing around, thus decreasing the chance of
knocking someone in the head while they are failing to pay attention
to the boom while watching for an unmarked metal post in the middle
of the ocean. Oh, it also helps maintain a nice sail shape allowing
for better wind usage.)
While Rob manned the tiller and the
main sail, we three crew members were constantly on watch for
manatees, dolphins and the deadly metal post.
That first day was actually quite
lovely, even with the threat of high winds.
Captain and crew |
We were out about two
hours and made it back in time for lunch at the Fish House and then a
rousing drive through Islamorada in search of landmarks from
BLOODLINE.
(More on all of these thing in later
posts.)
Wednesday looked to be an even better
day for sailing, according to the status board.
The Small Craft Warning was replaced by
Small Craft Advisory, with winds in the 12-22mph range.
Great Day to Sail, proclaimed the dry
eraser board.
Our adventurous plans were to sail to
North Nest Key, where we would anchor and have a picnic lunch and
snorkel before returning triumphantly home.
Me looking all adventurous in my #FindAdventure hat! |
Of course, you have to find North Nest
Key...
From a distance I simultaneously saw
one extremely large key, then two separate, then one large again and
finally something which resembled a plate of stone crab claws, but I
was pretty hungry by then.
It was decided that we would figure it
out, the closer we got to the island.
Great thought except that, due to that
pesky keel thing and the shallow water depth, we were also instructed
to crank the keel all the way up – so as not to RIP the bottom off
the boat...or at least drag the keel in the sand making a terrible
scraping sound.
So I have heard...
We were all feeling quite professional
as our boat cut through the deep blue water, avoiding the mysterious
metal pipe and the shallows near Porjoe Key. We ooo-ed and aaww-ed as
we saw the water flow from deep blue to emerald to sea foam green. We
laughed at inappropriate jokes regarding the grapes we ate as a
snack. Our friend Angie took the tiller and did a spectacular job
steering us towards the elusive end of North Nest Key.
See that green land mass? not North Nest Key. See that very faint suggestion of land further out? That's North Nest Key! |
this does not do the water color justice |
As we reached the point where we should
either turn towards North Nest to anchor, the wind – being windy
and all – took that Small Craft Advisory to heart and began to blow
harder. Rob took over the tiller and as a group we decided to turn
around and head home. Which at this point was the tallest radio tower
on Key Largo.
Turning a sailboat is not the simple
task one would think. You, know, with that wind and all. Because of
the wind speed, we needed to turn into the wind and 'come about'.
This requires gathering enough speed to keep the boat moving through
the wind as the mainsail swings to the opposite side. At that point,
and ONLY at that point do you pull the jib around.
I know this.
I do it often.
And this is where I lose my amazing
BoomVang points.
By pulling the jib over too soon, the
wind pushes the front of the boat back where it just came from and
the boat loses all momentum requiring yet another run to gather speed
and 'come about' again.
I will let you figure out what I did...
Anyway...after a successful second
attempt we began our journey home. Angie, Mike and I acted as human
ballast and moved forward and aft to help keep things in balance as
the wind blew slightly harder, the waves rolled a little less gently,
the water glittered a whole lot more spectacularly and those of us in
the front of the boat were splashed consistently.
Rob swears he did not do it on purpose,
that he was really just trying to not slide into the shallows around
Nest Key. (This is when a keel is super helpful to keep the boat from
sliding as the wind moves it along. Our keel was safely cranked to
avoid the shallows. You know, after making that delightful,
momentary, scraping noise I talked about earlier.)
'I'll get ya that shawk, head, tail, the whole damn fish....' |
It was an exhilarating trip home. A
trip that was rewarded as we prepared to dock between the pilings –
Mike at the bow stood ready to maneuver the bow as Rob swung the boat
around and essentially parallel parked at the dock – when he
shouted 'MANATEE!'
Angie and I threw our ballast to the
opposite side of the boat just in time to see the graceful rounded
shape of a manatee glide from under our boat and out to the sound,
lifting it's snout from the water to give us a welcome home snort.
Our 'we didn't die and Laura didn't puke' drinks! |
We ate our picnic under the Tiki Hut.
There was much discussion of our days
at sea.
Mike and Angie earned their very own
sailing logs.
And Rob and I felt even more certain
that we could disprove the old saying – "it is easier to make
friends of sailors than sailors of friends".
The following video is not mine. It is the 2012 video winner by WoodSong Duo for the Key Lime Sailing Club contest and features a song about the club. I heard this song and saw this video numerous times before our trip but the first time I heard it after coming home from our trip did I realize what a truly amazing place Key Lime is and what a truly wonderful time we had. It is absolutely a place we will be returning too.
Come back Wednesday for more of our adventures in the Florida Keys!!
What a wonderful adventure. Thanks for bringing us there with you, Laura!
ReplyDeletethank you! it was such a fun trip!
DeleteIt sounded like quite the adventure. I was on a small sailboat exactly once. My son was in a summer program in high school where he learned to sail. He loved it. To my surprise, he never pursued it as an adult, because (this was the teacher's observation) he took to it so naturally. On the other hand, just listening to the ocean gets me seasick. It's too bad, considering I was born several hundred feet from the Atlantic Ocean. Alana ramblinwitham.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteOh boy! I feel for you. I have motion sickness issues also, but mostly when sitting still. As long as I have a job on the boat and we are moving I am pretty good.
DeleteOn the off chance that the sail appears to be defenseless to this treatment, check it again once your boat speed has developed. The clear breeze will now be more noteworthy and the sail may require some modification.https://hamptonsboatrental.com
ReplyDelete